


From Dark to Light

by lolahardy



Series: From Dark to Light [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Angst, Arguing, Class Differences, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Internal Conflict, M/M, Power Imbalance, Soulmates, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1567853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolahardy/pseuds/lolahardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is a stripper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Dark to Light

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-ed by my love [Leesha](http://darlingleesha.tumblr.com)!

The music was thrumming through the entire club.

It was smoky and crowded and dimly lit, full on a Friday night.

Arthur stood backstage, watching the foot of the stage where most of the dogs crowded to  
salivate over the dancers. It was the usual dance club set up long stage with lights, pole in the center, bar in the back, tables and booths strewn about the floor where waiters walked in between holding trays of drinks and dancers walked around, tempting patrons into private dances. While money was often thrown around in abundance, where dancers made most of their money was in the private back room, the obnoxiously named “champagne room.”

There was nothing glamorous about it and Arthur hated to do it, but it paid the bills and kept him  
off the streets.

When it was Arthur’s turn to go on stage, he let the beat of the music lead him on and he moved  
with purpose, teasing the crowd, putting once innocent childhood gymnastics lessons to good  
use.

He found out how easy it was to double, sometimes triple the money thrown on stage when he  
did a full split or brought his leg up nearly over his head or slid to his hands and knees and  
arched his back enticingly.

It was a job for Arthur - nothing more. He left this shit at the club and never took it with him when  
he was home. It wasn’t something he enjoyed, something he loved or looked forward to; he just  
did it because it was easy.

The clients were the worse. When he was on stage it wasn’t so bad, it was the having to walk  
around and meet with customers who pawed at him and propositioned him and asked lewd, disgusting, inappropriate questions and felt they were in the right to ask since he was shaking his ass onstage. He had to smile and bite down on the urge to tell them to fuck off or snap their wrists or tell them just what he would do with their dicks, none of it pleasant.

When he was done with his set, he swept up the cash on the stage, giving a teasing smile as he  
did so and quickly got backstage again. He counted his bills, and then toweled off the sweat from the vigerous dance and lights before going out on the floor, praying for a good night.

Arthur was all length, toned body and tight legs and ass. He wore tiny, fitted little black shorts that  
sat on him normally when he stood, but rode right up when he sat, walked or danced. Most of  
the time, he wore kneepads for the stage to avoid the burn of sliding across a floor and then  
later scabs and bruises and Converse sneakers. They were a novelty, a way to get customers to  
remember him, to get more private dances, but mostly, they were comfortable.

He nodded to a few of the dancers he knew and spoke with a few clients, making small talk, sipping ice water as he tried to get a few dances for the night so he could go home with a couple of bills paid for the month. He usually didn’t have to ask like some of the other dancers, most offered, but  
very few were willing to pay the exorbitant amount that required to go in the back room for a  
private dance.

As Arthur polite-smiled his way away from a disgusting conversation, he turned towards another  
part of the club and saw someone new.

Arthur could pick out the regulars from the new faces easily but this new face was completely  
different from all the other goons and pigs that circled around him. For one, this man was  
dressed in a suit and tie; he was also very handsome - which was a refreshing change of pace.  
Arthur made his way over to him and placed his hands on the man’s table, leaning down with a  
small arch of his back and greeted the man.

“Hi, you’re new here aren’t you?”

The man looked up at him and gave a confident, cocky smile; the kind of smile that comes with  
a lifetime of being right all the time and winning at everything. Arthur knew that smile. It came with  
money.

“I am.”

There was an accent there that made Arthur stand up right and let his hip jut out slightly, as he  
tried to appear as sexy as possible. It wasn’t hard and the man looked him up and down and  
Arthur knew he had him.

“What does one have to do to get you to themselves, love?”

Arthur smiled a little, a dimple showing up on the side of his cheek as brought his hand up to the  
back of his neck, tilting his head as he said,

“Private dance is the best way.”

The man nodded as he stood up, buttoning the front of his suit jacket, smoothing his forest green  
tie down before he did and then swept his arm out in front of him as he said,

“Lead the way.”

Arthur was excited. This meant he could go home early for the night; he could pay off his phone  
before it was due and still get groceries. As he walked, leading the way to the private room in  
the back, he looked over his shoulder, seeing his client looking right back at him. Arthur smiled,  
turning slightly to take his hand. It was a tactful skill he learned to give the client a minor  
connection and possibly squeeze more out of them.

“So what’s your name, sweetheart?”

He heard his English lilted voice over the drive of the music and Arthur looked at him again,  
catching flashes of blue in the client’s eyes when the light was bright enough as he answered.

“Alex. And you?”

He would never give out his real name. It was yet another way to keep his distance from his job.

“Eames.”

“All right Mr. Eames. We’re here.”

Arthur let the bouncer run the rules down to Mr. Eames, no cell phones, turn out your pockets -  
keeping only your wallet, no touching the dancer, no alcohol.

One of the many room was lit in a red light, the leather couches lined against the wall, black and plush. It was windowless, mirrorless and aside from the couches, there was only a pole that could be used. The music from outside was loud enough to still be heard in the room, but now they didn’t  
have to shout to talk. It was empty and would remain empty with the exception of the two of them until Arthur was done.

Arthur waited and when the bouncer deemed Eames harmless enough, he was let in. Arthur  
took him by the hands, leading him to the couch to let him get comfortable, watching as he  
unbuttoned his coat again. He took it off and as he did, Arthur raised an eyebrow, surprised with how his crisp white oxford clung to well rounded shoulders, a toned back and an impressive shoulder to waist ratio.

Once Eames was settled, Arthur didn’t waste time. As soon as the next song came on, Arthur began to move, slowly bringing his arms over his head as he stepped between Eames’ legs. He straddled his thigh and he moved his hips, sitting down for only a moment before getting up in a fluid motion, turning his back to him. He rested his hands on Eames’ knees as he squatted down, letting his head fall back, looking over his shoulder and rose back up, sticking his ass against Eames’ crotch, hearing him gasp softly. Arthur turned back around, getting on Eames’ lap and took his tie, holding onto it as he still moved, his body a wave and when he got up on his knees, he let his chest push forward, practically in Eames’ face, letting his head fall back again.

Arthur sat straight up and suddenly felt Eames’ hands on his hips, strong and firm, his skin warm and soft but Arthur still frowned as he let go of Eames’ tie and took his hands off him.

“No touching, Mr. Eames. I can touch you, but you can’t touch me.”

It was a club rule and one Arthur often reinforced himself. He knew other dancers let clients  
touch them, it usually meant more money, but that was a slippery slope that often gave the okay  
for other things...and Arthur still had his dignity.

“My apologies.”

“Just don’t let it happen again.”

Eames nodded, settling his hands back down on the couch allowing Arthur to continued.

He ground himself against Eames, letting himself get close to his mouth, smelling cigarette  
smoke and good scotch on his breath as he breathed a little harder. Arthur smiled sweetly at him  
when he moved, then backed away, turning his back to him again pushing his ass against his  
dick again, this time, feeling a rather impressive erection this time.

Yet another refreshing quality.

Arthur gave an impressed, ‘oooo’ sound as he laid against Eames’ chest, feeling the man  
panting now, his hands clutching the leather of the cushion under him, his head turned towards  
Arthur’s neck as Arthur made soft little sounds, encouraging Eames, rolling his hips, grinding against his hard dick as he brought his arms up, his fingers brushing against the nape of  
Eames’ neatly trimmed hair.

He kept going, curving his back up, pushing his ass onto, and rubbing maddeningly against Eames, hearing his breathing coming out faster, harsher until he felt him tremble. A stream of curses flowed from Eames' mouth as his body relaxed. Arthur smirked, knowing he had come but he stayed still for a moment, still playing with the short hairs on the back of Eames’ neck as he asked sweetly,

“Did you come?”

Eames nodded, his fingers digging out of the couch cushion as Arthur slowly slid off his lap and  
sat beside him. He smiled, satisfied that he was able to get him to come, to get any man to  
come from just rubbing up against him.

He watched Eames collect himself, reaching into his suit jacket, removing a handkerchief  
to wiped his brow, then his mouth as Arthur toyed with his tie, tugging on it playfully.

“All right?”

Eames nodded clearing his throat and then slowly stood up, adjusting himself. When he was done, he reached into his pocket, took out the thick fold of bills and peeled off a few hundred dollar bills and gave them to Arthur.

“What do I have to do to get you to myself?”

The smiling stopped then. Arthur knew his type; one good orgasm and they think they can buy  
him. Arthur took the money and stood up.

“I’m not a prostitute Mr. Eames.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

Arthur switched back to his polite smile now as he said,

“I can show you out.”

“Can I see you again?”

“You can come back any time.”

Arthur held his arm out, showing him out.


End file.
